Tiptoe That Little Line
by mrsProbie
Summary: There's an old saying about the thin line between love and hate. Rossi and Granger have been tiptoeing it for far too long, and when she breaks some news to the team, they blur the line a bit. /Oneshot. T for a speck of language. Uncertain of genres./


**Hermione POV**

I glanced nervously from face to face, examining the reactions of my colleagues. Hotch, of course, already knew- he was a wizard himself and had been hearing my name in the wizarding news since I was a teenager; it would have been ridiculous if he hadn't known. Reid was dumbfounded. I knew he was shocked- not only that magic existed, but that he hadn't figured its existence out himself, what with his boss and a close coworker having magical abilities. Morgan was in slight awe. Prentiss had a surprising confession: she was a Squib and so, of course, had prior knowledge not only of magic, but of my involvement in the war(s) on Voldemort. All the reactions were positive or neutral.

Well, all except Agent Rossi's.

Rossi had always been a thorn in my side, and I hadn't exactly expected him to be any different in this situation. He and I had been at each other's throats since the day he came out of retirement, fighting like bratty first years every chance we got. Rather than reeling in shock or dropping to his knees in awe, Rossi simply seethed. Yes, that's right- he was bloody _seething_.

"And you couldn't have used this to help out on any cases?" Rossi demanded, brows furrowed.

"David," Hotch began, but I cut him off.

"Rossi, believe me, I would have if I had thought it appropriate. And there are a number of situations in which I _did_ use mag-"

"But you could have helped more!" he said, stepping forward. We weren't in the usual conference room; this room was sound-proofed. Unfortunately, it also lacked a table, allowing Rossi to advance towards me unhindered- or, as some would put it, 'get in my face.' "All those victims who died when with a wave of that wand you could've-"

I stepped toward him, arms crossed, gladly giving him a small bit of satisfaction. Venting a bit at him would be worth letting him know his words had gotten to me. "There are restrictions on the usage of magic in the presence of Muggles, Rossi, I just told you that." Admittedly, I said it a bit more sharply than I probably should have.

"Hermione, David, calm down," Hotch muttered. I threw him a glance, but he seemed more focused on Rossi than on me.

"What you just _told_ me," Rossi said, shoving his face forward and even closer to mine, "is that use of magic around Muggles is restricted to keep us from being aware of your world." His eyes glistened with rage. "Using magic to help heal a victim in need without anyone being any the wiser would not have violated any of the laws you just-"

"You complete ass," I muttered. His jaw tightened. I bit the inside of my right cheek before continuing. "None of you are unintelligent enough to not realize something as odd as victims being healed of fatal injuries. I would have been found out in half a second if I'd tried that."

"We _would_ have known something strange was going on," Reid conceded. I didn't acknowledge his comment.

"And we would've known you were a witch," Rossi said, the veins in his neck visible by this point. "Which is exactly what we know now. The only difference would be all the men, women, and children whose lives you would have saved."

I didn't respond, choosing instead to glare at him with easily the same fire I would've given Lucius Malfoy on a bad day. He returned the look, positively glowering. **[1] **Then, we snapped.

Our lips met immediately, our tongues sensually dancing the masochism tango. He tasted vaguely of cinnamon and I reminded myself to steal some gum from his desk later; the scent of his aftershave filled my nostrils, and I tore myself away from his lips.

Ignoring the looks we were receiving from our coworkers, I stormed out of the conference room, slamming the door behind me.

**Rossi POV**

"What the hell was that?" Hotch demanded. I looked from the closed door to him, then back to the door, mouth agape through all my head-shaking.

"I have no idea, Hotch," I said, still staring at the exit Granger had just taken. "But you couldn't pay me enough to ask her."

**A/N **This idea's been floating around in my head for a bit now, so I finally decided to just plop my ass down and right it. Oh, and I don't own any of those characters up there or anything ^^^ (Though I sort of wish I owned Reid... and Rossi... and Morgan. And maybe even Hotch.)

**[1] **I know I'm not the only one that got a mental image of Joe Mantegna going, "Positively entertaining," here. Right? Please say I'm not the only one. (I've been watching too much ion lately.)


End file.
